Invisible Man
by Sieria
Summary: Fujiwara Yusuke feared getting forgotten. He(pardon me, I forgot his name.) was forgotten. The men briefly talk.


Misawa Daichi noticed himself on his stomach by the seashore – the seashore of Duel Academia - when he regained consciousness. He slowly blinked. _Where was he?_

No, he was _not_ back in Duel Academia. He _couldn't_ be. That world may have been the world he originated from, but that didn't mean – never meant - that he _belonged_ there. He belonged to where his so-called 'companions' had described as 'dystopia.' That place was never dystopia for him, though.

There were people who noticed and paid attention to him in that world, the 'dystopia.' People from his original world had stopped noticing his existence from someday. He still had become a lot of help to them, but the more he would help, the more the others would forget him.

For instance, on their first forceful journey to another world, he; Misawa Daichi was the one who actually transported the whole gang back to the original world. Now that everybody was back from their second trip, nobody cared enough to look for him or even remember that he existed.

Misawa thought he'd become used to the ignorance, but he realized he'd never get used to it when he recognized throbbing pain. He didn't know whether the pain was physical or mental – or perhaps both – but there was nobody to tell him which: He was alone.

Then a big splash of water hit him, and the sudden shock was enough to bring him back to real life. Misawa noticed that he was walking back into the deep ocean.

He stopped for a moment: Maybe _somebody_ would need him even in this world. Like, perhaps, Dr. Tsubeinstein. But he soon continued back into the water in dismay. Dr. Tsubeinstein would also forget about him after not much time, or even if not, he realized that it still didn't matter because Misawa himself didn't care much for Dr. Tsubeinstein. So he pushed himself into the emerald water, into the deep, deep abyss.

* * *

It was then when he thought he felt somebody's warmth. He _thought_ he thoughthe felt it. He _thought_ it was an illusion.

"Hey."

Then he realized it wasn't. The illusion – at least, that was what he had thought – was talking, and the voice wasn't hollow. The voice had emotion, and Misawa knew that illusions didn't talk with emotions.

Misawa turned his head to find a young man with tea-green hair, who's right hand was placed on his shoulder – that was the source of the warmth he felt. The young man was soaked with salty, cold water, but humans were always warm, no matter what condition. Misawa had missed the obvious warmth for so long in this world, that he was almost forgetting it.

"What the heck are you doing?" The figure spoke. Misawa could tell he wasn't very sincere, but at least the voice wasn't hollow wind.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Then should I go back?" The young man sounded rather dishonored then worried; whether he was sealing his own emotions, or he was really disinterested in a random case of suicide. Misawa didn't care much about other people's emotions either, though.

"Should I go back?" So he answered.

"I don't know how to answer that now," the young man replied after briefly chuckling. "But what I do know is that you will disappear soon again, anyways."

Now, that's a unique answer, Misawa thought. He stared at the man's dull azure eyes. He observed them carefully, trying to read them.

"Are you planning for something that's going to screw the whole universe, or something?" he concluded with an educational guess (depending on his past experiences of the Seven Stars, Society of Light, and the other universe).

"Indeed I am," Azure Eyes nonchalantly replied. "The plan is to erase everybody from everybody else's memories, to make it short."

Misawa really hadn't expected that. "Why would _you_?" _That's something more likely for me to do._

"I fear that everybody will forget about me one day," Azure Eyes said, quickly switching into a nervous mood. "My parents died of a car accident when I was young."

Misawa tried to calculate the relationship between the fear of getting forgotten and parents' death, but was apparently failing. His parents were alive, and it didn't really matter. Though, just to be polite, he didn't comment about that.

"Well, whatever you're doing, I'll wish you luck," He said instead, unconsciously walking out of the water. "And maybe tell me your name so I can try to remember."

The azure-eyed man's lips twisted into a naive smile. He named the feeling understanding. Although it wasn't something magical and perfect as in a book or a movie, it was a strangely soothing sensation. He was no longer careless, making his eyes change from dull blue to real, crystalline azure.

"My name's Fujiwara Yusuke. Thanks for your appreciation."

"Your idea is just too heterogeneous for people to sympathize."

"And how can you?"

"Because _I'm_ the forgotten that I think you're afraid of becoming."

Fujiwara Yusuke's majestic smile quickly faded, replaced with a _terrified _expression. Misawa then noticed that he had touched the trauma. Fujiwara was scared to death, and Misawa again realized that he was never good at giving consolation.

"Don't be so spooked out. You get used to it when it really happens to you."

"So, is this what happens when you get extremely used to it?" Fujiwara bitterly replied, giving a look at the salty blue they had just gotten out of.

Misawa couldn't answer. He lied: He _never_ was used to it.

"And if you were okay, you haven't been truthful when you wished me luck," Fujiwara said, lips twisting back into a smile – a fragile but magnificent one. "You're my companion, right?"

"Of course." Misawa didn't know whether he was being literal or sarcastic.

Fujiwara wasn't offended by the possible verbal irony. He merely told him:

"Go back to your dome. Change into dry clothes, and get some rest. Forget about the cards and just keep them safe."

Misawa didn't know what to answer, so he only stared at his newly made _companion_. Fujiwara Yusuke just waved his hand.

"I'll promise you things will change."

And he was gone.

* * *

Misawa Daichi could still scarcely feel the warmth of humanism, despite the frigid temperature of the night breeze or the water. Even though he knew Fujiwara would forget Misawa Daichi.


End file.
